Chapter 12

Even when the baseball game was over Galen showed no inclination to rush out the door. "Do you play cards?" he asked.

Lydia shrugged. "I can but I don't think I have any in the apartment. Except for my Tarot deck."

"Tarot cards?" He raised one eyebrow in that skeptical expression she loved. "You're kidding. When have you had time to get into the New-Age stuff?"

"When I was about three." Lydia stuck her tongue out. "The cards belonged to my grandmother. She used to do readings for the neighbor ladies over cookies and tea." She scrambled off the couch. "Don't move!"

Galen was still watching with indulgent amusement when she returned from the bedroom carrying her silk-wrapped deck. Let him laugh. She knew that the cards could work, if the reader's mind and spirit were open to them. He might have forgotten more about history than she would ever know but when it came to this, she could probably teach him a thing or two.

She sat cross-legged on the couch and cleared a space on the coffee table where she spread out the scarf to lay the cards on. Then she took a cleansing breath and started shuffling, letting the energy from the cards flow though her and her own psychic energy flow through the cards.

She handed the deck to Galen. "Cut the deck."

He did and she wasn't in the least surprised when he revealed the Hierophant. She slid the card out of his hand and laid it in the center of the scarf. "Okay, that's your significator - the card that represents you. Now think of a question, something open-ended, not yes or no. And while you think about the question, shuffle the deck."

With a smart assed roll of his eyes, he followed her directions, then handed her back the deck. She cut the deck, mentally weighed the piles and then began to lay out a basic Celtic Cross spread. Her own eyes widened when she saw the Lovers appear in his recent past. He raised an eyebrow too. That was one card that didn't need a lot of interpretation. She wasn't as thrilled to find the Hanged Man in his future, or Death as the conclusion.

"This doesn't necessarily mean that someone close to you is going to die," she hastened to explain. Her stomach knotted back up at the grim vibes she was getting from this reading but she didn't want to scare him away from her completely by freaking out. "But it does suggest there is some kind of danger - maybe physical, maybe just the end of an era in your life - a career change for instance."

"I somehow doubt that," he scoffed. "I'm tenured and have no intention of changing jobs until the day I retire."

"Well, whatever your question was, I guess what the cards are telling you is to be careful." She gathered the cards in a hasty jumble, not even making sure they were all facing the same way before she slapped the scarf back around them.

"I'm leaving for that conference in Milwaukee tomorrow," he reminded her on his way out a little later. He hadn't spent the night since that very first time. "You've got my cell number if you need to get in touch with me for any reason."

"Boy, all the way to exotic Milwaukee? You history department guys get all the perks." It felt good to laugh and tease but he was going to be gone for four days and she was going to miss him. She stood and walked him to the door.

He laughed back, then when she laid a hand against his chest, his expression turned intense and serious. "I'll miss you, sweetheart."

She swallowed the lump in her throat. That was as close as he'd come to a declaration. She gave him the best smile she could muster. "Likewise. And Galen - please be careful. I know you think the cards are all silliness but it wouldn't hurt, would it, to be a little extra cautious for the next few days?"

He tapped a finger on her nose. "If it will help you sleep easier while I'm gone, then I promise. I'll double check all seat belts, look three times before crossing the street and even avoid cholesterol."

"Thank you."

He sealed his promise with a kiss, one that was long and deep and full of the frustration he'd obviously suppressed all evening. While she'd adored his sweetness and patience with her discomfort, Lydia had been a little nervous about this new side of him. Not anymore. Now her senses were reeling by the time he finally tore his lips away and tucked her head beneath his chin for a hug. He held her until they could both breathe again, then kissed the top of her head and pulled away.

"Goodnight, Lydia. Get some more sleep, okay?" He ran gentle hands up and down her arms. "I hate the thought of you being sick."

"I'm not sick," she reminded him. "Also not pregnant. Which is a good thing."

He made a funny face, screwing up one side of his mouth. "It's better this way. Though I can't say I regret my son, and he wasn't planned, either."

"That's because you're a good man, Galen. Of course you love your son." She had no doubt he would have loved any child of theirs, as well, but that didn't mean he wanted another, and she'd do everything in her power not to put him in that situation.

"I'm a better man when I'm with you." He dropped a kiss on her forehead and left.

She nodded, her voice too shaky to speak. She watched him walk down the stairs, gave him a cheerful wave when he turned to look at her one last time. Then she turned off the porch light, locked the door behind him and crawled into her lonely bed. She hugged the pillow he used when they lounged between bouts of sex. It smelled of him, a little at least and it was more comforting than any teddy bear she'd ever owned. Still it was a long time before she went to sleep.